


Sight Unseen

by OnTheTurningAway



Series: Mating Games - 2013 [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, One-sided Peter/Stiles, Sexual Fantasy, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnTheTurningAway/pseuds/OnTheTurningAway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Relegated to the sidelines, Peter takes matters into his own hands and sees more than he ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sight Unseen

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the first [Mating Games](http://mating-games.livejournal.com) challenge. Thanks to [ArcadianMaggie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcadianMaggie/pseuds/ArcadianMaggie) for the beta.
> 
> See end note for (spoilery) additional info on Peter's actions in this fic.

"These children truly have no idea what they're doing," Peter says, tossing his headphones to the side, hand outstretched to close the lid of his laptop.

It's been over a year since his re-birth, but he's still banned from pack meetings when Lydia Martin is in attendance. Instead, he has to sit in his apartment across the hall from Derek's, trying to eavesdrop, waiting for his nephew to include him in their plans, as if he doesn't have a lifetime of knowledge and experience that could be useful against their latest foe.

But Peter has never been one to sit idly by. He hoped the camera he'd hidden in Derek's living room would give him insight into the inner workings of Derek's motley band of misfits, but this inaugural run has proven to be anything but fruitful.

Only the sight of Stiles lingering by Derek's couch gives him pause. He watches the group shuffle out of sight, hears the heavy steel door to Derek's loft slam closed and several sets of footsteps shuffle past his apartment and down the stairs. When they've all gone and it's quiet except for ambient noise, Peter refocuses on the activity on his screen.

Putting his earbuds back in, he turns the sound all the way up, relieved he's finally going to get some potentially useful information. Peter wonders what Stiles has dug up that he didn't want to share with the rest of the pack. What he doesn't expect to see is Stiles stalk over to Derek, pull him close and practically attack his mouth with his own.

"Well, well," Peter says, scooting down on the couch into a more comfortable position.

Stiles kisses like Peter's always thought he would, in a frenzy of movement, hands everywhere, as if he can't decide what to kiss or touch or taste first. The way Derek immediately wraps his arms around Stiles lets Peter know this isn't a new development, and he wonders how he never noticed before. But then Derek's pack is made up of horny, attractive teenagers, so a cloud of lust perpetually hangs in the air in Derek's loft; Peter's just failed to realize who's responsible for it.

He can barely hear little moans and grunts, a sharp intake of breath when Stiles pushes Derek down onto the couch, settling on the floor in front of him, but imagination is a wonderful thing and Peter lets his mind fill in the gaps. Derek is surprisingly passive, though Peter can't fault him for letting Stiles take whatever he wants and knows he'd do the same if given the chance.

Mimicking Stiles' actions, Peter unzips his jeans as Stiles undoes Derek's, tugging open the button, then dragging the zipper down slowly. He pulls them down his thighs just far enough to get his hardening cock out, spreading his legs as wide as his jeans will allow, and the pungent scent of _want_ fills the air. He spits into his palm and imagines Stiles' warm hand on his cock, those long fingers wrapping tightly around his length. Peter settles into a quick rhythm to match Stiles' movements, giving his balls a rough squeeze when he hears Derek gasp.

Even from a distance, Peter can see that Stiles' cheeks are flushed as he bites into kiss swollen lips. It seems like an almost unconscious gesture when Stiles repositions himself to straddle Derek's shin, rutting against Derek's leg in perfect synchronization with the rhythm of his fist, entirely focused on the task at hand. 

Peter imagines hot bursts of breath hitting his own overheated skin and he inhales deeply, recalling the sharp tang of Stiles' scent from all those months ago in the parking garage, a heady mix of what he imagines was the perfect combination of fear and lust. Heat coils in his belly when he sees Derek's hips begin to jerk upward.

"Come on, come on," Stiles says, twisting his wrist around the head of Derek's cock, picking up speed. Derek spreads his legs wider when Stiles sucks two fingers into his mouth, then dips them lower, between Derek's legs and out of sight of Peter's camera. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what Stiles is doing when Derek grips the edge of the couch cushions. Peter follows suit, trailing his fingers lightly down his inner thighs and then back up, squeezing his balls and trailing down again to press one dry fingertip against his asshole, circling, teasing, just barely pressing in.

Derek shouts when he comes a minute later, Peter following closely behind, spilling over his fist when Stiles dips his head and takes the head of Derek's dick between his lips. 

Eyes squeezed shut, Peter's head falls against the back of the couch and he gives himself a moment to imagine the warm, wet heaven of Stiles' mouth around his cock. He knows Stiles would be eager for it, lips stretching wide around him, taking Peter deep, then deeper still with a gentle push against the back of his head. Stiles' eyes would be wet at the corners from the strain, looking up at him just the way Peter likes, while Peter held him there and came down his throat.

His cock gives one last, feeble jerk at the thought and Peter drags his fingers through his come, rubbing it into his skin. He's still catching his breath when Stiles unzips himself and climbs into Derek's lap.

"Okay, my turn, and make it quick. I still have a curfew, you know," Stiles says, leaning in and baring his neck to Derek.

Peter watches his nephew rub his face against Stiles' neck and throat, biting at his collarbones, then dragging Stiles down into a slow, deep kiss as his hand begins to move.

Lacking the recovery time of a teenager and lazy with his own orgasm, Peter puts his laptop aside, content to watch this time. He's certain he'll put the recording to good use later. 

He congratulates himself on the success of his surveillance setup and makes a mental note to get a second camera for Derek's bedroom. Peter may not have gotten the information he expected but the evening's events have been enlightening, to say the least.

**Author's Note:**

> Peter watches an intimate moment between Derek and Stiles and gets off on it, imagining Stiles is with him instead.


End file.
